


In a Back Alley

by johnny cade (johnnycake)



Series: Switchblades and Leather [27]
Category: The Outsiders (1983), The Outsiders - S. E. Hinton
Genre: Gen, M/M, implied alcohol, implied rape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-03
Updated: 2018-07-03
Packaged: 2019-06-01 17:35:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15148313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/johnnycake/pseuds/johnny%20cade
Summary: Johnny wakes up and can't remember anything. Dallas finds him.EDIT: i added more to this, so if you've read this before, it's been added to since then





	In a Back Alley

**Author's Note:**

> this was originally going to be much longer, but i was feeling lazy and liked how i ended this anyway. i might write what i didn't later and reupload it, but for now enjoy!!

The world spun in circles when Johnny opened his eyes and the first thing he registered after the bright midday sunlight shining in his face, was how bad his neck and back hurt, like he’d been sleeping on a hard surface all night. Then he realized he was on the ground, on gravely concrete and he sat up quickly, looking around, trying to figure out exactly where he was.

It was an alleyway near the center of town. He could see cars passing by on the street outside the mouth of the alley. There was a red brick building in front of him and behind him was a building made of white plaster. Down the alley was another back alley of driveways in the closest neighborhood. None of this told him anything as just about all of downtown Tulsa looked just like this. He would have to go to the mouth of the alley to figure out where he was.

However, most concerning – even more concerning than his clothes, which were torn and rumpled, almost as though they’d been taken off and someone else had put them back on – was the fact the space between his legs hurt and when he tried to stand tears pricked the corners of his eyes and pain shot up his spine and he couldn’t do it. He started to shake violently as his hands curled into the gravel beneath him and he grimaced.

He was terrified to look between his legs, terrified he’d see a red spot there. Twice before already the Socs had beaten and assaulted him. And, as he thought about it, he realized he remembered nothing from the night before. For all he knew, they’d beaten him, assaulted him, and left him here for dead. The only part he couldn’t figure out was why he was dressed if that had happened.

A car pulled into the alley and Johnny pushed himself back on his hands and knees, trying to get away from it before it hit him, but it stopped just short of him and that was when Johnny recognized the car as belonging to Buck Merrill. He looked up towards the driver’s seat and saw Dallas, wearing a pair of sunglasses, but pulling them off as he saw him. He looked shocked, scared, and relieved all at the same time and Johnny wondered again what had happened the night before.

“Johnny?” Dallas said slowly as he got out of the car. He moved towards Johnny slowly too like he was a wounded animal he was afraid might bite. His eyes darted to the space between Johnny’s legs and Johnny knew immediately there must be a red spot there. Why else would Dally look at it?

He felt tears in his eyes and he was still grimacing, his entire body shaking. Why was it always him these things happened to? Why was he always the one that got hurt? Why did the Socs had him in specific so much?

“Oh, Johnny, what happened?” Dallas asked as he moved closer to him, reaching a hand out towards him. Johnny instinctively flinched away and Dally immediately pulled his hand back, guilt in his expression as he did so.

“I-I dunno what happened,” Johnny replied, looking around the alley again as he did so. “I just...woke up here...and...and my whole body hurts and I can’t stand.”

For a moment, Dallas was silent and Johnny could tell he was thinking the same thing Johnny had been only a moment before: Why did this always happen to him? He could see it in the guilt in Dally’s eyes and, even as he thought it himself, he was glad it was happening to him and not any of the rest of the gang. He was used to it by now. They wouldn’t be. And that meant it would hurt them far more than it did him. At least, that was what he told himself. He had to justify it to himself, turn into something good somehow or he’d lost it.

“C’mon,” Dally said then, his voice much more quiet and solemn than usual. “My old man’s outta town. I’ll take you home and patch you up.”

Dallas helped Johnny to his feet, hoisting him up under his arm pits and half carrying him to the passenger door of the car. He opened the car and Johnny could feel his eyes on him as he collapsed into the seat. Dally slammed the door shut behind him. Johnny watched him walk around the car to the driver’s side. Dally’s hands were clenched into fists and his brows were drawn together. He was frowning and as he slammed his own car door shut behind him, getting in, Johnny knew he was angry.

“It ain’t your fault, Dallas,” he said softly, as Dally pulled through the alleyway and into the alley of driveways behind it, heading back towards home. “You didn’t know.”

“Yeah,” he said, his voice already sounding bitter with that one word. “I didn’t know cause I let you run off after we were all at the Curtis place. I knew you were unhappy, but I didn’t know you were gonna go home and drink and when Darry said he saw you walkin’ the streets on his way home, I knew somethin’ was wrong. So I went lookin’ for you and...all night I couldn’t find you. This _is_ my fault cause I knew somethin’ was wrong. I knew it before Darry ever told me. And I still let this happen.”

“You didn’t know they were going to come after me again,” Johnny whispered. “If anything it’s my fault for goin’ out along at night and comin’ into town.” He looked at his lap. He could see the red stain now and he had to press his hand over his mouth to keep the sob that gasped out of him from being heard by Dally. Dally still glanced at him anyway.

“This is _anythin’_ , but your fault,” Dallas replied, making a sharp turn onto his street. He stopped in front of his house and turned to Johnny. “All you ever do is try your best and these...assholes still come after you. You ain’t ever done nothin’ except exist, Johnny. Bein’ drunk and bein’ alone aren’t any excuse for someone to hurt you.”

Johnny looked at Dally. He thought about telling him that it wasn’t his fault either, that he didn’t blame him and he did tell him he didn’t blame him, but he knew that Dallas would blame himself no matter what he said or did.

 

* * *

Worrying about where Johnny was all night had been bad enough. Then to find him in an alley, not remembering anything with a red stain between his legs had been the second worse scenario Dallas could think up. The first worst had been finding Johnny dead. But this was almost just as bad because it meant the Socs had hurt him yet again and Dallas hadn’t been there to stop it. The thought alone made him want to hit his steering wheel until his hands bled as he drove back to his place, thanking whatever gods were listening that his father was out of town.

Once they pulled up to his house, he got out of the car and went around to the passenger door, helping Johnny out, keeping one arm wrapped around him, the other tightly holding his hand as he helped him up the front steps and into the house. He led him to the couch and watched as Johnny laid down on his stomach on the couch, curling in on himself, closing his eyes as he did so.

The sight made Dally’s heart break. How many more times would this happen? How many more times until it killed him? Or he killed himself?

He knelt down in front of the couch, watching Johnny for a moment before he said quietly, “Johnny, I gotta take off your clothes. I gotta see what they did so I can make it better.”

Johnny opened his eyes and looked at Dallas and Dally hated himself for the fear he saw in them. He watched Johnny swallow nervously and say, his voice thin and high-pitched, “Okay.”

Dally helped him sit up again and told him each time he was going to remove a piece of his clothing. He grimaced when he saw the bruises that covered Johnny’s torso and then again when he took off his pants and saw the red stain completely covered the center of his white pair of underwear. He would have to take them off as well, he realized, to make sure whoever had hurt him hadn’t torn him, but considering the amount of blood he was seeing on his clothes, he was willing to bet that was exactly what had happened.

“Johnny, I gotta take off your underwear, okay? I ain’t gonna do nothin’ except look, I promise,” he said, taking Johnny’s hand in his and squeezing it.

Johnny bit his lip, nodding. He didn’t speak this time, but Dally could see the fear in his eyes and again he hated himself for not being there, for not protecting him, for this being necessary at all.

Johnny laid back and Dallas slowly slipped off his underwear and tried not to grimace at what he saw. The space between his legs was red and inflamed. There was dried blood around a large tear and Dally knew it was going to have to be stitched up. It was still bleeding. There was fresh blood on Johnny’s underwear.

“It’s bad...isn’t it?” Johnny’s voice was soft and solemn, but he said this as a statement.

Dally’s eyes flicked to Johnny’s and he nodded. “Yeah,” he said just as softly, looking away. “I’m gonna have to stitch it up and clean it.”

Johnny only nodded, staring at the ceiling. “Just do it,” he said his voice still soft. Dallas watched him swallow hard once he finished speaking and the way he spoke broke Dally’s heart. He was so used to pain and suffering that he just accepted it now. And, as he ran to the bathroom to get the first aid kit, he thought, yet again, about how this, all of this, wasn’t fair.

He gave Johnny a shot of whiskey, hoping it would numb the pain, before he set to work.

The entire session passed in silence. Johnny curled his fingers in the sides of the couch and clenched it every time Dallas wiped him with the antiseptic soaked rag. Then he grit his teeth and held the couch even more tightly when Dallas began sowing him up. Once he was finished, Dallas cut the length of black thread with his teeth and said, “Okay, I’m done.”

Johnny wanted a shower, but he couldn’t be in warm water right now. The stitches would just come right back out and then they’d have to do this all over again.

Dallas dressed him again, this time in a pair of his own too-big pajama pants and one of his overlarge t-shirts, before he helped him into bed, promising him everything would be alright in the morning. However, he’d had more than a little to drink himself while he’d been sowing Johnny up and, without really thinking about, climbed into bed next to him.

Johnny never told him, but it was only because of Dally’s arms wrapped around him that he managed to fall asleep. It was the only thing that made him feel safe.

**Author's Note:**

> i'm lazy because i'm super depressed, but yeah. i hope you enjoy anyway <3


End file.
